Unphased
by lunatic922
Summary: It's time for another full moon in Beacon Hills and once again, Scott and Allison are broken up. Stiles and Mrs. McCall try to keep Scott safely locked up but Isaac encourages Scott to give in to his wild side. The evening takes a turn when a friend calls for help. Takes place during first full moon after the finale. Thank you everyone for the reviews and follows/favorites!
1. Chapter 1

_4:12 PM_

"Mom? I'm home!" Scott McCall unceremoniously dropped his backpack on the floor of the front hall and kicked off his sneakers. Even though he could his mom's heart beating in the kitchen of their house, he went through the motions of a normal kid returning home from school. "Where are you?"

"In the kitchen, sweetie!"

He stepped into the sunlit room. His mother was spooning some pasta into a Tupperware container at the counter, her back turned to Scott. She was wearing her work clothes—a loose-fitting pair of nurses' scrubs.

"Just getting ready for work!" His mom said brightly as she turned around, smiling. "You sure you're going to be ok tonight?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" The teen asked suspiciously. "I know how to microwave leftovers."

"Well. Because of the, uh, full moon."

He and his mom had recently cleared the air about Scott's current non-human status. Specifically, Scott told her he was a werewolf. Today, he sensed something was off with his mom. Although he knew she was still a little freaked out around him, it wasn't fear he detected. He still needed practice honing his heightened senses and couldn't quite catalog the emotion coming from his mom. Whatever she was feeling, it made him uneasy.

"I'll be fine." _Guilt._ His mother reeked of guilt. But why? "What's going on?"

"What makes you think anything is going on?" _Thump, thump, thump._ Her heart raced.

"Just a hunch." Scott narrowed his eyes and took a small step forward, on the hunt for answers. His mom stepped back. No use pretending. "You're hiding something. I can smell it."

"Scott, I'm sorry."

Because he was so focused on his mother, he hadn't notcied that someone else was in the house until he felt a needle puncture his neck. Scott turned around to face his attacker. He wobbled, quickly losing his ability to stand upright.

"What are you doing?"

Before he could get an answer, the kitchen was swallowed up by darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

_5:37 PM_

Scott woke up to the sound of muffled voices and a strange _whirring _noise. He felt like he'd been hit by a car. Which, he had been, twice. The first time was an accident, the second time, very intentional. Both times, a parent of his then-girlfriend, Allison Argent, had been behind the wheel. It figured that with his luck, he dated the one girl in school from a family of werewolf hunters.

"Oh, crap, he's waking up!" Scott recognized the voice of his best friend and son of the sheriff, Stiles Stilinski. "Can't you go any faster?"

"Stiles, shut up!" responded Scott's mom. "I thought you said he'd be out for a couple hours!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but knocking out a werewolf isn't an exact science! Cut me some slack, Mrs. McCall."

Scott turned his head towards the door of his bedroom. His vision was blurred, but he could make out two figures in the doorway. The one in plaid with the slightly fuzzy head he took to be Stiles. Process of elimination meant that his mother must be the skinny pink stick with the curly black mass on top.

"What are you doing?" He blinked a few times and his bedroom came back into focus.

"Welcome, back buddy." Stiles popped his head inside the room. "How ya doin'?"

"I feel funny. What did you do to me?"

"Oh, just gave you a little ketamine."

"My boss gave you ketamine?" Confused, Scott tried to figure out why Dr. Deaton, the veterinarian, would help his best friend and his mom drug him.

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Stiles. "I stole it from the evidence room at the police station."

"Why would it be in the evidence room?"

"Ketamine is used illegally to make ketamine hydrochloride." When Stiles received only blank stares from both McCalls, he sighed. "Aka, Special K, the _drug_. Geez, haven't you people ever seen 'Cops?'"

"Why are you stealing from the evidence room?" This question came from the lone adult. "Does your father know about this?"

"Of course he doesn't know." A shadow crossed the teen's face. "Wait, you're not going to tell him? You can't Mrs. McCall!"

"Better question. Why are you injecting me with industrial-grade sedatives?" Scott pulled himself into a sitting position. Two heads swiveled in his direction. His mom shrugged, inexplicably holding an electric screwdriver.

"Um," Stiles stalled eloquently. "Your mom and I figured we'd err on the side of caution tonight."

Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles had a tendency to get high-strung about the full moon. Even though they had tomorrow off from school for mandatory teacher professional development, his plans for tonight involved nothing more dangerous than watching bad TV and eating junk food.

"I was fine last month."

"Yeah, but dude. Allison broke up with you. _Again. _Remember how well that went last time?"

Regrettably, Stiles had a point. The first time Allison dumped Scott he had broken out of handcuffs and nearly killed Allison and Jackson Whittemore, his rival on the lacrosse team. Scott growled in annoyance but the other boy was unimpressed.

"See my point?"

"Whatever, I'm gonna get a soda." Scott stood up and walked towards the door, but he couldn't seem to cross the threshold. He glanced down and saw a thin wooden dowel threaded through two curtain rod holders secured to either side of the doorframe. That explained the screwdriver.

He rushed over to the window behind his bed. He couldn't cross the sill. Same thing with window next to his desk. And the one inside the bathroom. Frenzied, he stared wide-eyed at Stiles and his mom. "Mountain ash?"

"This is the best way to keep everyone, _including_ _you_, safe. You're welcome."

Mountain ash had been used for centuries by people to create barriers that kept the supernatural out. Now it was being used to keep him in.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Scott lunged at his friend. THUD. He hit an invisible wall and landed flat on his back. "Ow."

"Wow, that stuff really works," remarked Mrs. McCall. She peered in at her son, lying prone on the floor. "Are you ok, honey?"

"I can't believe you went along with this!" Scott glared at his mom.

"Well, he had a very convincing PowerPoint slide show. Really nice transitions. You should ask him to teach you. "

"Stiles. Made. A PowerPoint presentation. Is this some kind of joke to you two?"

"You know, in today's competitive job market, I figured I might as well hone my marketable skills," Stiles said. He knew Scott was pissed and tried his best to suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Scott's eyes flashed gold. He stood up and growled again, this time sounding like an actual wolf. A really angry wolf. Stiles flinched, even though he was safely on the other side of the door.

"Oh come on, Scott, it's not that bad," Stiles tried to reason with his friend. "We have pizza coming, and I'll be here hanging out with you the whole time your mom's at work."

"You plotted behind my back, to lock me up like some animal."

"Scott, we're only trying to protect you," his Mom pleaded.

Scott did the only thing he could do given the situation. He slammed the door in their faces.

"Don't be such a drama queen!" Stiles yelled. Scott didn't respond, instead listening as his jailers retreated down the stairs. He threw himself onto his bed, outraged. _Traitors._

He was still fuming fifteen minutes later when his mother knocked on the door. He was lying on his back, trying to bore an escape hole through the ceiling with his eyes. Sadly, it seemed that werewolves did not possess laser vision among their suite of supernatural abilities. Maybe it was for the better, since a hole in the ceiling would be really expensive to fix.

"Scott? Can I come in?"

"No."

The door creaked open and he heard his mom walk in anyway. She sat down next to him on the bed. He rolled over on his side to face the wall. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, kiddo. I know you're upset. But really, I just want to make sure that you're safe tonight. Stiles told me about what happened during your first full moon. When Mr. Argent shot you. And about when Kate Argent tried to shoot you."

"I'm not gonna get shot," Scott muttered._ Stiles and his big mouth_.

"The Argents are still in town, Scott. I'm not going to risk you getting hurt by some nut-job with a crossbow. Wow, I can't believe I actually just said that." His mom shook her head in disbelief. "Listen, we'll talk tomorrow morning when my shift is over."

She leaned over and kissed him on the head, then rose to leave.

"Love you," said Mrs. McCall from the doorway. When Scott didn't answer, she cleared her throat.

"Love you," Scott grudgingly replied. His mom pulled the door closed behind her, leaving Scott to sulk in peace.


	3. Chapter 3

_7:53 PM_

As the evening crawled by, Scott was no longer angry. He was angry and hungry.

He could forgive his mom. After all, she didn't know what to expect. They still hadn't really discussed the full details of his werewolf-ness. He'd been trying to give her space and figured he'd broach the subject again after she'd had a little more time to absorb the first round of information.

But Stiles. Stiles _knew_ better.

Embarrassingly enough, Stiles understood more about werewolves than Scott did. He'd helped Scott since the beginning and he saw how far Scott had progressed in controlling his abilities. And he hadn't even blinked when Scott had suggested they go to Lydia Martin's party last full moon. In fact, he fully supported the idea. Mostly, because they were trying to discover who controlled the kanima. And to stop someone else from dying. But still.

Scott felt the moon break free of the horizon and its unseen glow made him restless.

He began pacing the floor of his room. Bed. Computer. Window. Then back to the bed. He mindlessly repeated the circuit, again and again. Every fiber in his body screamed for freedom. There was one small mercy in his being confined to his room—he could open the window. He may be forced to experience the outside world through a small opening, but he wasn't completely cut off.

Finally, Stiles arrived with the welcome sight of a pizza box and a two-liter of root beer, Scott's favorite. Without a word, Scott took the pizza and polished off two pieces in less than a minute. Stiles poured some soda into a Solo cup and handed it to Scott. He gulped it down.

"Still mad at me?"

Stiles took his friend's dirty look as confirmation, that Scott was, indeed, still mad at him.

"Listen, Scott. I know you're pissed. But I also know you'd say—and do—just about anything on a full moon when you're upset. I just couldn't take the chance. You know how you get about Allison. All I'm saying is that maybe this is a good thing. In the long run."

He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair, willing his friend to see the big picture.

"I mean, how about the whole going nuts and shooting people with a gazillion arrows! Not to mention brutally stabbing a few people too! And she seemed just fine with her grandpa's crazy basement of electric torture. Believe me, I saw it. It wasn't pretty."

Scott sat down at the computer and began checking his email, pointedly ignoring the other boy.

"Fine. Be that way. You can apologize tomorrow when you come to your senses."

Stiles stomped out, leaving the door wide open behind him. A moment later Scott heard the TV come on. To distract himself, Stiles selected a documentary about wolves. He interjected commentary that highlighted the most humiliating behavior to irritate Scott.

It was working.

Scott shut the door and settled back on his bed, gazing out the window at the white sphere now inching above the tree line.

Underneath his anger was a growing concern that something so far away could affect him so powerfully. Last month he had felt more in control, that he could contain _the other_ inside him. He believed the moon's pull on his actions to be a roadblock finally behind him. Tonight, he wasn't so sure. Was he upset because of Stiles and his mom locking him up, Allison breaking up with him, or was it the moon magnifying his darker side?

He heard Stiles change the channel and soon the opening notes of one of that year's werewolf-themed horror movies blared at top volume. This one was particularly bad, as the werewolf suffered a gruesome death at the hands of a bland hero armed with a machete and a lame catchphrase.

_Find your anchor, Scott. _

Since he and Allison had called it quits he'd been grasping for a new constant in his life to keep the wolf at bay. He chose to focus on his desire to protect those he cared about.

Of course, his current predicament made it difficult for him to focus on the aspects of his loved ones that didn't infuriate him. He tried to slow his breathing. After a few moments, some of his anger abated and he felt more like himself.

Stiles' words echoed in his head. Scott had told Allison she had nothing to apologize for. At the time, he meant it. He recognized that Allison was grieving for her mother and that a huge part of her life was suddenly gone, forever. He couldn't even begin to imagine a life without his own mom.

But.

As the days passed he began to reflect—really think about everything that happened.

Scott understood why Allison came after Derek. He could even understand if she had chosen to come after him, since he was equally to blame for what happened to her mother.

It was by saving Scott that the Alpha had even come into contact with Mrs. Argent. Scott believed Derek when he said the bite had been an accident, the result of blindly giving in to survival instincts. Had he not intervened, Scott would be dead.

Mr. Argent told Scott how Allison shot Boyd until her quiver nearly ran out of arrows_._ The hunter's description of her cavalier attitude towards killing another person haunted him. He saw with his own eyes how she skewered Isaac. It reminded him of when Allison joined Kate in hunting him and Derek after the winter formal. The two werewolves hadn't hurt anyone then. In fact, they were trying to protect everyone. But it didn't seem to matter. The young hunter gave into her rage over Lydia's attack at Peter Hale's hands, lashing out at the nearest targets.

She simply had flipped a switch inside herself.

It was as if there were two Allisons and Scott couldn't reconcile them. One was the sweet, smart, brave girl he had fallen for and the other a cold, cruel stranger without compassion. He had the uncomfortable awareness that maybe deep down he was ok with their break up not because he thought they were fated, but because a part of him wanted it too. Maybe Stiles was right. In the long run, he would be better off.

A noise on the roof interrupted his thoughts. Scott inched over to the window. He tried to catch a scent, but the intruder was down wind.

"McCall."

"Isaac?" Scott exhaled in relief at the voice of his friend. Isaac was one of Derek's first pack members. Lately, the two teenagers had bonded over their shared bizarre experiences. "What are you doing here? I thought Derek would tell you to stay inside tonight."

"He did. But since he's out tonight, why should I stay cooped up watching a "Project Runway" marathon with Peter?" Isaac shrugged. "Greenberg's having a party and I need a wingman. You in?"

"Sure." Scott agreed, delighted at the chance to get out. Remembering that he was, in fact, successfully interred, Scott frowned. "Wait, I can't."

"Listen, I know you've been trying to get your grades back up, but there isn't any school tomorrow. Ditch the studying for one night."

"That's not the problem," Scott pointed down at the piece of wood he knew spanned the width of the window. "Stiles and my mom barred all the exits to my room with mountain ash."

"Harsh." Isaac shook his head. "Hold on a sec."

Scott heard a soft _thump_ as the other teen dropped to the ground. After a moment, there was a _thwack, _followed by the sound of the offending pole falling to the leaves below. Without hesitation, Scott leapt out the window and landed next to Isaac, who was holding what appeared to be a small tree.

"Let's go to that party."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

11:23 PM

Scott thought that this party may have been Isaac's best idea yet. Maybe the best idea of all time.

He was sitting on a couch in Greenberg's living room making out with Amy Sherman, Allison all but forgotten, for the night at least. Amy's soft lips and persistent tongue made it hard for him to focus on anything else at the moment. Scott wasn't sure why she had decided to kiss him, but right now he didn't care. She tasted like a day at the beach—a pleasant combination of coconut, sunshine, and salt. He moved his hand down to her waist.

The pretty girl drew back and smiled coyly. Her blond hair gleamed in the low light.

"For such a shy guy McCall, you're a pretty great kisser."

"I'm full of surprises," the teen countered as he leaned in hungrily for more.

"I'll be the judge of that."

They resumed kissing and the cheerleader nimbly navigated her way onto Scott's lap, her knees on the couch, thighs straddling him on either side. She bent down to press her lips against his, her long hair creating a curtain that hid their faces. She gently moved his hands to her hips. She kissed him harder and he moaned in approval.

Then his phone rang. Probably Stiles calling to yell at him for leaving.

Scott deftly pressed the "ignore" button and continued his current pursuit of Amy's neck. Mercifully, the ringing stopped. Or so he thought. When his phone rang again a moment later, he moaned again, but not in pleasure.

"Maybe you should take care of that," his partner murmured as she nibbled on his ear. "Seems important."

"It's nothing," Scott sent the call to voicemail without looking at the screen. "See? Taken care of."

When the phone rang again, Amy pulled back, amused.

"Why don't you get that? I'll go grab another drink."

She got up, giving him a lingering kiss before heading toward the kitchen. Scott answered his phone, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"What?"

"Scott? I need your help! It's all gone wrong!"

"Lydia?" Scott sat up. "What's gone wrong?"

"It's Jackson. He's gotten out. I don't know where he is. Oh my god, he could get hurt! Or hurt someone!"

Scott immediately shared Lydia's concern. It'd been a couple months since his co-captain had been turned by Derek, but tonight was his first real full moon as a werewolf rather than the reptilian monster he'd been the past couple of months. Lydia was one of the smartest people in school and the most popular girl in their grade. Scott never understood why she dated Jackson, arguably one of the biggest jerks in their class and possibly all of Beacon Hills

"Lydia, calm down. Where are you?"

"Jackson's house. His parents are out of town.," she said between panicked gasps. ."Stiles isn't picking up his phone and you're the only other person I thought could help. You know, since Allison and her family would probably kill him."

She began to cry.

"Listen, stay calm, I'll find him, and bring him back to you."

"You will?" Lydia said hopefully, sniffling.

Jackson was a pain in the ass, but Scott didn't think the Argents would kill him. Jackson _had _murdered a lot of people when he was the kanima. But it wasn't really his fault, since he was being controlled by someone else. Then Scott remembered what Isaac had told him about the possibility that a pack of Alphas was in town. If they found Jackson before he did, there was no telling what they would do to him. Nothing pleasant, he was sure.

"Don't worry, I'll find him," Scott repeated, more to reassure himself than Lydia. "I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

_11:46 PM_

After Scott hung up with Lydia he tried to plan his next move. Jackson was unpredictable enough under normal circumstances. A wolfed-out Jackson presented more problems than he wanted to admit.

Isaac. He needed to find Isaac. The two of them would be able to cover more ground and have more success stopping Jackson together. Scott closed his eyes and tried to locate Isaac's voice but the din of the party made it impossible to single out any one person. He'd have to search the house.

He passed through the living room where a DJ spun music for a horde of dancing teens. Scott ruefully noticed Amy talking to Greenberg in the corner. He opened the door to the study and flushed crimson when he realized he accidentally interrupted the lacrosse team's goalie, Danny, making out with his new boyfriend in the darkened room.

He finally found Isaac in the kitchen playing beer pong with a couple of guys from the team. From what could tell, it looked like he was winning. Not much of a surprise. Werewolves didn't get drunk, giving Isaac an unfair advantage over his opponents.

"Isaac, we need to go."

"Not now, McCall, can't you see I'm busy?"

"Jackson's missing," Scott said in a low voice that only the other werewolf would hear. "We need to find him. _Now_."

The tall boy gave him a startled look.

"Listen guys, I'm out." He and Scott walked away from the table to the protests of the other players.

"C'mon Lahey! We were just warming up."

They exited the house via the back patio. Drunken teens milled around the manicured lawn, chatting and laughing in the warm evening air.

"How did you hear he escaped?"

"Lydia called me, said he broke free of the chains she used to lock him up," Scott explained as they crossed the grass and headed into the woods.

"Of course he did," the tall teen sighed. "At least he isn't a giant lizard anymore."

"Yeah, we might stand a chance. But he got out about ten minutes ago, which means he could be anywhere."

The woods around them thickened, the pale light from the moon and stars barely filtering through the trees. The sounds of the party faded away and Scott senses sharpened in the quiet.

"So then how do we find him if he could be anywhere?"

They stood around awkwardly while they brainstormed.

When Scott shifted after he first turned, all he wanted to do was kill someone. They just needed to figure out who Jackson wanted to kill. Scott wasn't on his list of favorite people, but he didn't think Jackson would waste time going after him. Although, it would make things easier. Scott furrowed his brow. Who had hurt Jackson so much he'd come after them? Scott had a terrible thought.

"Derek. Jackson's going to go after Derek!"

"What? Why?"

"Because he tried to kill him when he was the kanima."

"Didn't we all try to kill Jackson when he was the kanima?"

"_No_. Not like Derek did. He was the one who turned Jackson. His Alpha. When the bite didn't seem to work, Derek basically just hoped that he'd die from it. He was supposed to protect Jacson, to teach him. And he didn't. He just tried to get rid of him."

"I see your point."

"We need to find him."

"How do we do that?"

"We call him."

"But won't that attract the Alphas?"

Scott groaned inwardly. Isaac thought he wanted him to _howl_. For the love of God. "On his cell phone, dumbass."

"Oh. I knew that." He pulled out his phone and dialed Derek. After a few seconds he mouthed the word _voicemail_ and proceeded to leave a vague message. "Hi Derek, it's Isaac. I need to talk to you, ASAP."

"Isaac, are you staying with Derek right now?"

"Yeah."

"Still in the abandoned train station?"

"No. Thankfully, Derek decided to rent an apartment, like a normal person. He finally figured out it'd be safer if we were surrounded by people instead of the middle of the woods."

"Well, let's go there," Scott suggested.

"We can't. He's out, remember?" It was Isaac's turn to roll his eyes.

"Ah. Right." Scott racked his brain for an alternative. "Wait, I have an idea. If you were looking for Derek and didn't know where to find him, where would you go?"

Isaac thought carefully and then smiled in understanding.

"The Hale house."


	6. Chapter 6

_12:14 AM_

Formerly an impressive estate, the Hale house had settled into a second life as a collection of dilapidated ruins. Even though he had been inside more times than he wished, Scott hesitated involuntarily every time he laid eyes on the charred structure.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Isaac whispered.

"Let's just check it out," replied Scott, more bravely than he felt. In the woods an owl hooted and the teens started at the sound.

Slowly they snuck up to the house; approaching as if it were a sleeping dragon they feared waking. A slight breeze kicked up and Scott detected a trace of another person, still recent. Someone was there. He crept towards the front door from one side and motioned for Isaac to flank the opposite side. The high-pitched squeak of a floorboard confirmed his suspicions. Footsteps echoed in the house, slowly nearing the front door. Then, silence.

"What are you two idiots doing?" An exasperated voice came from behind them.

"Arghh!" They jumped in surprise, turning around to face Derek Hale himself. Scott swore he saw the corner of the Derek's mouth twitch, as if trying to suppress a smile. Like an extra plucked from a James Dean movie, he was dressed in jeans, a wife beater, and, despite the impending arrival of summer, a leather jacket. Effortlessly, he managed to look intimidating and nonchalant at the same time.

"Derek, don't DO that!" Self-consciously, Scott tugged at the bottom of his blue pullover, feeling like a dweeb compared to the older werewolf.

"Do I even want to know what you two are doing? Especially, when I specifically instructed _you_," the Alpha glared at Isaac, "to stay inside tonight."

"We're here to protect you," Isaac said defensively. "You'd know that if you ever answered your phone."

"Protect me? From what?"

Before Isaac could reply, the bushes rustled and something sprung at Derek. _Jackson._

Instinctively, Scott tackled Derek's snarling, would-be attacker, pinning him to ground. The growling werewolf bucked furiously and Isaac rushed over and helped Scott hold him down.

Unsure of how to stop Jackson from ripping Derek's head off, Scott decided to just punch out him with as much strength as he could muster. Thankfully, this tactic had the desired result of rendering Jackson both unconscious and harmless.

"A serious improvement over fighting an amped-up gecko," Isaac commented. He nodded at Scott. "Guess you better get going."

"Yeah. Thanks." Scott hoisted Jackson's lifeless form over his shoulder and started walking toward the Whittemore's, leaving a dumbfounded Derek Hale in his wake.


	7. Chapter 7

2:09 AM

"Ok, so let me get this straight. I'm going to tiptoe in the front door like a prison escapee. Carrying a stick. Meanwhile, you climb in through the window by way of the roof, rather than take the stairs like a civilized person. And _then_ I'm going to put the stick outside your window. And you expect me to go along with this ridiculous plan because…why, exactly?"

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. Now that Jackson was safe, the pretty red-head had regained both her composure and her biting sense of sarcasm.

"Lydia, please just do it." Scott fidgeted, anxious to get back inside before Stiles discovered him missing.

"Uh-uh. The days of keeping Lydia Martin in the dark are over. You want my help, I want to know why."

"Ok." Scott huffed. "The stick is a type of wood that Stiles and my mom put outside my window to keep me in. I need you to put it back so they don't know that I went out."

"To Greenberg's party."

"_And_ to find Jackson."

"Fine." Satisfied, Lydia uncrossed her arms. "After you."

Scott clambered up the roof and into his room as quietly as he could. After a minute or two, Lydia sauntered in through his bedroom door, barely disguising her displeasure at his decorating taste.

"Okay, right out here," he indicated the window next to his bed. "Just slide it through the holders."

Lydia climbed on top of the bed and crawled over to the window, mountain ash in hand. If someone had told Scott six months ago Lydia Martin would be in his house, never mind on his _bed_, he'd have thought they were crazy.

"Ok, done." She hopped off the bed. "So that will really keep you in?"

"Yep."

"Prove it."

"Fine. See this here?" He walked over to the door Lydia had come through and pointed to the stick anchored outside. "This prevents me from leaving."

Lydia eyed Scott a skeptically. Then she pushed him. He started to free-fall forward, but his body halted unnaturally at the exact location of the mountain ash. He tipped himself away from the invisible plane and shifted his weight back onto his feet.

"Impressive. I should look into some for Jackson. Much easier than chains."

"Talk to Stiles. I'm sure he can help."

"Hmm. Thanks for the tip." With that, Lydia flounced out of the room.

Suitably imprisoned, Scott readied himself for bed. He was pleased they found Jackson before anyone could get hurt. Lydia was still new to the werewolf situation and he regretted that she had been forced to worry about Jackson's safety when she was still trying to adjust to her altered reality. There were plenty of days he had trouble coming to grips with everything, so he appreciated that it was a lot for a normal person to wrap their head around.

Feeling guilty, he admitted to himself that Stiles and his mom would have panicked like Lydia if they found out he had escaped. His mom would never have been able to go to work if she didn't believe him safe at home. And then Stiles would probably have spent the night trying to track him down, frantic that Scott would do something stupid.

Scott realized he'd have to apologize to Stiles tomorrow morning, after all.

_7:34 AM_

"Rise and shine. I have donuts!" Stiles cheerful voice was too loud for the early hour.

"Mrmph."

Stiles tossed a paper bag onto the bed, expertly aiming so that the sweet-smelling projectile landed on Scott's head. Scott sat up and rustled through the bag, grabbing a chocolate frosted donut. He lobbed the bag back to Stiles, who pulled out two donuts for himself.

"You're free to go, dude."

"Yeah, till my mom decides to lock me up again," Scott grumbled through a mouthful of donut.

"Might be difficult without these," Stiles help up a bundle of mountain ash sticks. He wiggled his eyebrows and shoved the sticks into his backpack. "This was a one-time deal."

Scott grinned. "Sorry I ever doubted you. And sorry about last night."

"Well, just don't let it happen again."


End file.
